Onyx Sable
by deletedforeverago
Summary: Onyx is a spunky, antisocial bat kid. Having escaped from the school five years earlier than Max's flock, she finds herself thrust into their group for protection from the School. Sounds dorky, but just read it! Romance and such! Better than it sounds!
1. Prologue

_**Prologue**_

Memories dance inside of my eyes. Chemical smells drift across a cold tile floor. A needle slides its way into my ivory flesh. A splash of scarlet stains my ragged dressings. My family's faces, twisted in pain as they lay dying in their cages . . . It's too much. I grip my dark head with one hand, and dig my thin fingers into my scalp. Because actually, this feels better.

The flashback stops. I don't know how long it went on for. An hour? A day? A second? Long enough for me to relive a few of my many horrible memories. I can't resist taking a peek at my arms. No IV tubes. No Whitecoat injecting radioactive dye into my bloodstream. _Get it together, Onyx, _I tell myself. Panicking won't make the memories go away . . .

I realize suddenly that my wings are pulled out around me. I curse myself mentally. Who could have seen them? Had someone already called the police about a fifteen-year-old girl with bat wings, living in Arizona? I keep my thoughts in check. Bad Onyx. No paranoia allowed. I stretch them out momentarily, feeling the slender bones extend, pulling the leathery membrane into a tight, thin sheet. I stand up on the thin branch I've been resting on, and let myself fall backward off of it. I drop ten feet before taking an upstroke and getting into the familiar rhythm of flight. Within thirty seconds, I don't even remember that I'm using my wings. I swoop upward, high into the midnight clouds, droplets of sky condensing on my faded, checkerboard-patterned sweatshirt.

The clouds clear, and a landscape spreads itself before me. Pinpricks of light dot the hills, like ants carrying flashlights on their way to bite-sized towns. I feel the corner of my mouth twitch in a semi-smile. Amazing how quickly flying can make all of your troubles seem to melt away . . .


	2. Chapter 1: I should explain

_**I should explain—Chapter 1**_

Note how I said flying _seems_ to make troubles go away. I'm still a batgirl with no family. Still mute, condemned to forever live a life of silence. Still a freak, still having no possibilities to ever have a normal life. Still, still, still. No amount of airtime is going to change that. But hey, _seems_ is good enough for now.

I drop a while to coast above the smooth, silky waters of lake Powell. The first slices of sunrise leaves a trail on the water, a peachy blend of orange and pink. I let myself slide further and further, until my bare feet brush against the icy lake. A tingle shoots up my spine at the touch of the cold water. I retract my toes, and shoot upward to a deep and narrow cave. Carefully navigating around stalagmites, stalactites, and tight corners, I reach my camp in a bit under a minute. I beat my wings a few times slowly to brake, and softly land on the rocky, copper-toned ground. I don't bother with shoes as I walk around the hard caves. I'm used to pain far worse than a stubbed toe. I toss my jacket, soaked through with cloud vapor, into a corner. My wings are kept out, allowing them to relax and regain power. A day of hiding them tightly against my back has made the strong muscles ache. If it weren't for the Whitecoats at the School, I wouldn't have to deal with this. I wouldn't have to hide my wings and live in a cave. My family would be alive . . .

You may have heard of others like me. They call themselves the "Flock." A group of six bird kids. My family and I were the originals. The first mutations made to fly. A team of whack-job scientists called Whitecoats at the School, a prison facility slash torture chamber slash science lab, created us. Sounds like a cheery place to grow up, now, doesn't it? Anyhow, they fused ten percent bat DNA with our "enhanced", ninety percent human genes. The result? Four flying kids with a superhuman IQ and bad attitudes. A few key differences in our design were made, the first painfully obvious: We're bats. They're birds. Another: I'm the only bat kid left. There's six of them, plus about ten extra that didn't make it past the first few months. And yet another: They're revered as gods among Itex. Bat kids were considered the lowest of the low because we refused to cave in to their "training" by acting like idiots. We were the original team to save the world. I, Onyx, with the aid of Gala, Ruby, and Holly was supposed to save all of _you_, sitting there reading this on your chair, comfortably nestled in a safe, warm house. Due to our refusal to obey, the bird kids were produced instead. Our expiration dates were kick-started, so that we could be quickly disposed of. My family dead, I somehow survived the expiration date and pretended to die instead. My ability to stop my heartbeat for up to five minutes convinced them I was dead. When they brought me to the back of the School, I managed to fly away. Unable to save my family, I was forced to grow up on my own from the age of six. It's not a problem, though. I don't need anyone's help. I've made it ten years away from the School, dodging away from towns, taking scraps of dried fruit from unwitting hikers, soaring above clouds, and just _living_.

I escaped from the lab relatively unscathed. Besides my mental scars, one major incident would change my life forever—my loss of speech. It occurred during a spar with three Erasers—wolf men, for those not in the know—at the school. I was beating them badly; they were so pathetically weak, especially considering that I could fly up, make myself invisible, and pounce down on them. Superhuman strength probably helped out too. Anyways, the fight was going well—for me at least. As I was overtaking the third, he raked me with one clawed paw, all the way from the bottom of my jaw to my collarbone in a crooked gash. I staggered back, and collapsed from the searing, uncontrollable pain. The Whitecoats patched me up so I wouldn't bleed to death, but my rarely used speech was gone forever. But, enough of the history lesson. These things can't be fixed, so there's no real point in going into the details.

I find a place where I can hang from to sleep—laugh if you want, I'm a bat, what do you expect? Of course I sleep upside down. The downside—resting in any formal dwelling is nearly impossible. Part of the reason why I slept for only a few hours a day while at the School was the dog crates, clearly having no hanging posts.

Gripping the small rocky ledge with my feet, I cross my arms across my chest, and tuck my wings tightly around my body. My breathing slows, and the world goes black.


	3. Chapter 2: The Watcher

Chapter 2: The Watcher—Third Person POV

The Watcher stood almost completely motionless on the bare soil. He would have resembled a statue had his all-white eyes not been following the Flock's every movement through his thick, high-powered binoculars. A group of eight, total, if you thought to include the two dogs with them, which the Watcher didn't. Two blond scruffy kids. One with chocolaty skin, another with strawberry blond hair. A long, dark one. And their leader. They were the targets. They were the group that the Watcher was to bring back to the Director.

Swooping, soaring, gliding gently through the sky—_So careless of them!_ The Watcher scowled. It was no small wonder that the Flock was to be dispatched back to the School for further "editing." Their design simply wasn't good enough.

The Watcher's general tapped him twice on the shoulder. The signal at last! The Watcher sprang into action, blowing an ultrasonic whistle to launch the Flyboys into the air. The Flyboys were much better designed now, sleek, stainless steel metal neatly integrated into weapons seamlessly welded onto their chunky arms. The Flyboys, of course, would not get to actually capture the Flock. No, that was the Watcher's responsibility. A ghostly smile twitched at his lips as he gripped the gun that would take down all of the mutants. Not permanently, of course. If they were taken down permanently that would mean death for the Watcher too.

The Flyboys assembled themselves into optimal fighting form—grouping into triangles so that every angle could be covered, every bird kid taken, and minimal robotic casualties made.

They were ready.


	4. Chapter 3: Eeeeeeeeeerrrrrrrrchhhhhhh

Chapter 3: _Eeeeeeeeeerrrrrrrrchhhhhhh_—Onyx's POV

_Eeeeeeeeeerrrrrrrrchhhhhhh. _The high-pitched, whistling noise rouses me from sleep. _What was that?_ I wonder. Unwrapping my wings from their entwined position, I leave just enough space for my eyes to peek out between the leathery membranes. Only the darkness of the cave. I unfold my wings almost completely, and then drop down. My ears are still ringing from whatever that noise is. I morph them into bat ears, hoping that I will be able to detect wherever it came from with my ultrasonic hearing. _Eeeeeeeeeerrrrrrrrchhhhhhh._

I swivel my head to the direction of the sound. I start running towards the mouth of the cave out of sheer instinct. My feral side tells me I need to find out what the sound is and where it came from. As I reach the cave entrance, I leap off the ledge, unfurl my wings, and coast through the night air. _Eeeeeeeeeerrrrrrrrchhhhhhh. _I wince. The sound hurts, it's a noise that shouldn't exist. But I continue on, driven by those pesky natural instincts. I keep my eyes closed to focus better. _Eeeeeeeeeerrrrrrrrchhhhhhh. Eeeeeeeeeerrrrrrrrchhhhhhh. Eeeeeeeeeerrrrrrrrchhhhhhh. _Ouch. I clamp my hands over my ears. _Eeeeeeeeeerrrrrrrrchhhhhhh. _

_Why won't it go away! _I scream in my head. Much more of this and my ears will bleed. I press my hands over my ears again, harder. _Eeeeeeeeeerrrrrrrrchhhhhhh. _

_It hurts! _I think. _It hurts so much! _This pain isn't nearly as bad as when I got my throat wound, but pretty close.

It hurts too much. Giving up after another five minutes of torture, I morph my ears back to normal. _Eeeeeeeeeerrrrrrrrchhhhhhh. _The sound is still there, but not nearly as painful. Tiredly I fly about a mile away from the lake, to a campsite. Time for dinner, time to take my mind off of the sound. A tent is set up in a gravel square, beside a smoldering fire pit that sits by a cooler. My mouth twitches. Pathetically easy to get this meal.

About a minute later, as I'm just closing up my now full, also now fifteen pound bag, there is rustling in the tent. I freeze. The rustling stops, and I take a few quick, light steps away. _Zip. _More sounds, a yawn, a grunt, reach my sensitive ears. What's going on? Are they coming out of the tent? Are they coming after _me?_ I bolt immediately for the lake, flinging myself into the air and flying like mad.

I'm now over the lake. _In, out. Inhale. Exhale. Breath in. Breath out. Calm down,_ I order myself. Time to relax, Onyx. Time to get a hold of yourself, Onyx. Good girl, Onyx.

As I touch down softly in my cave, I pull out a pack of dried fruit from my pack and munch down. Thanks to my ten percent Egyptian fruit bat genes, eating meat was impossible. Even seeing meat makes me feel ill. _In, out._ Chew, swallow. _Everything is fine. The people in that camp weren't Erasers. They weren't from the School. They weren't out to get me,_ I tell myself over and over.

I don't believe myself.


	5. Chapter 4: Too close for comfort

Chapter 4: Third Person POV

Iggy tilted his head slightly to the side. What was that sound? It was a soft, nearly undetectable hum. Quieter than even his heartbeat. He tilted his head more, trying to pinpoint what the sound was.

And then, the sky was filled with buzzing. Too much buzzing. Where was everyone? A wall of sound closed in on him from every direction.

"Flyboys!" Max yelped. Iggy heard Fang's wings coasting somewhere near him, so he went off of Fang's location. Reaching for a few bombs in his pack, Iggy hesitated for only a moment to make sure he wouldn't hit one of his flock members before chucking them at the first Flyboy group he heard. _Ka-ba-ba-ba-boom! _The bombs went off in rapid succession, one after another, hopefully taking a few Flyboys with it. Nudge shrieked, he snapped his head in her general direction.

"Iggy!" she yelled. "Ew! Flyboy-bits!" A smile appeared on his thin lips. So his aim wasn't off. Encouraged by this, he eagerly began throwing bombs wherever he heard Flyboys. _Ka-ba-ba-ba-boom! Ka-ba-ba-ba-boom! _Almost nothing made Iggy happier than hearing bombs go off. As he reached for more, however, his pale fingers only brushed thin air. _Uh-oh, _he thought. With his bombs gone, he would have to resort to other techniques. Taking a deep breath, he swung a punch at the first robot he heard and crossed his fingers for luck.

Fang knew as soon as he saw how many robots there was that they didn't stand a chance. Six bird kids were doomed against a hundred Flyboys. He met Max's chocolaty eyes, and they silently agreed. This was one fight they would lose.

Locking into battle mode anyway, he decided that his technique would be to target individual groups, pick off a few ones too close for comfort, and then protect the younger kids. Repeat.

Once again glancing back at Max, he confirmed what he already knew. She wouldn't give up without a fight either.

Nudge, Gazzy, and Angel were all panicking. Angel sent them a swift thought, 'Max knows that we can't make it already. But she wants for us to try anyway.' Nudge and Gazzy exchanged a scared glance that said the same thing. _But _why _do they want us back?_


	6. Chapter 5: Discovery

Chapter 5: Girl Scout camping trip?—Onyx POV

As I continue chowing down on my dried fruit, the whistling noise finally stops. Raising my head slightly, I morph my ears back into bat ears, just to be sure. Nothing. Now, of course, my feral side wants for me to go find out what stopped it. Driven purely by instincts, I once again leave the dark, cool, safe haven of my cave to investigate.

With the painful sound gone, at least now I can concentrate. The down side being that with the sound gone, I can't hear where it's coming from. Fortunately, for that there's an easy solution.

I close my eyes, and outstretch a fist. Pressing my closed hand to my mouth, I can send out ultrasonic pulses, making a "map" of sorts inside of my head out of sound. This is both simpler to use than normal vision; it lacks colors so shapes are easily distinguishable, and more efficient in that I can "see" with my ears for much farther than with my eyes.

The sound builds a three dimensional image of the land under me, hills, water, ledges. Ledges, water, hills. A bush. A few stray sound waves, coming from an elegant house boat with a water slide. More water. A floating log. Another bush. The same patterns repeat over and over. I'm starting to think that maybe I was just imagining the sound when I see/hear a large group of bodies, vaguely human shaped. A Girl Scout camping trip? Unlikely.

I hover for a few moments, debating if I should check it out, or hang back. In the end the half of me that wants to find out about the clump of bodies wins out. Keeping the sound map in my head, I scope out their location until I'm pretty sure that I could see them with my actual eyes.

I feel my face tighten, my sea foam blue eyes widen, and fear kicks every sense I have into overdrive.

Crap.


	7. Chapter 6: Flashbacks return

Chapter 6: Onyx's POV

Not a hundred feet in front of me is a huge pack of what appears to be robotic Erasers. At least a hundred of them. I realize that their inner mechanics is what was causing the screeching sound, the noise that has been driving me crazy for the past half an hour. They have crudely manufactured wings, hard and metallic, that produce a similar noise to the one I heard before. The Eraser-bots are battling six twirling figures in the sky, with thick and feathered wings on their backs—

I nearly fall out of the sky. _The bird kids!_ I think, absolutely shocked. _How can they be here?! How can they be out of the School? How can they still be alive? _Why_ did they come_ here_!_ I shake myself out of my daze. _You don't have time for this! _I scold myself. But I can't keep from lingering, can't help myself from watching. Can't help seeing if they will be able to escape. I recognize only two of the bird kids. I only saw them once, back when I was still at the lab, aged six. Roughly two months before I would escape. But they were definitely the same kids. The memory brought itself up with such force I wasn't able to resist. Everything turns white for a split second, and then the images form themselves in my brain.

_My eyes open as I hear three sets of footsteps walking down the hall. Perking up my ears, I crouch further back into my cage at the same time, hoping that by some small miracle that _They_ won't find me if I make myself small enough. I cringe away as they approach, squeezing one eye completely shut and squinting out of the other. But it is only one Whitecoat that walks by, guiding two experiments. The experiments look a little younger than I am; one is a girl, the other a boy. The girl has shoulder length, wavy blond hair and soft, light brown eyes that contrast her pale complexion. She seems to be a healthier weight than the boy, and is about half an inch shorter. The boy has dark hair and tan skin, like me. I realize that we have many similarities, we're both thin, extremely bony, and tall, and he seems to cast his eyes constantly downward also. But his eyes are a dark, rich brown, whereas mine are the color of sea foam. More interesting than his eerie similarity to me, is the pair of black, feathery wings that twitch nervously against his ragged-clothed back. The girl squeezes his hand slightly, in what may be either a comforting gesture or a nervous spasm. Her wings also flutter a bit; hers are a creamy tan and dotted with numerous shades of brown. They suddenly freeze, turning their heads in my direction when I scuttle back farther into the cage. _I don't want anything to do with other experiments, _I think. They're not to be trusted. No one is. _

_I instinctively pull my tiny, leathery wings around me, which is difficult, seeing as they were seven feet total and in my cage I didn't have enough room to even sit upright, as the Whitecoat tells them, "That's just BIR5E27. A failed experiment, along with the others of its kind. Don't be afraid, it can't talk. Nor can it hurt you; the bat experiments are all kept under very close surveillance." I want to jump out of the cage and throttle the Whitecoat. I want to scream, "I am _NOT _an it!" as the bird children and the scientist walk away, the bird kids glancing back occasionally and giving me pitying glances. As their footsteps fade away, Gala, my one truest companion, murmurs my name softly. I turn my head, and stick my spindly, webbed hands through the bars of the crates through to him, wiggling my fingers in a circular motion. In my silent language, this means 'I'm fine.'_

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: Sorry for the weird ending, but it'll be better explained later. I just suck at ending chapters.**


	8. Chapter 7: Stay or go?

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: Should I have Onyx help the Flock or not? Check my profile for the Poll, and answer! Review and tell me your opinions, too please, because I really need some tips and such! Okay, here is the chapter!**

Chapter 7: Onyx's POV

I manage to draw myself out of the flashback before the Eraser bots notice me. The bird children are fighting hard, but their struggle is weakening. They know that they don't stand a chance. In my opinion, no reason to stop fighting, but, it was their funeral, I guess. Aside from the two bird kids I had seen so many years ago, four others had joined them. As a tall, redheaded one spun around wildly in a circle, I caught a glimpse of a small dog, furry and black, squirming anxiously in his arms. Strange, but not that important. Or at least I think.

The Eraser robots could—no, _would_—see me very soon. If that happened, I would no doubt be killed. But the flock of bird kids needed my help. I knew that I could probably take out a good chunk of the robots for them. On the other wing—(ha, bat pun. Get it? Other—never mind)—the robots' screeching had driven me crazy from a distance of ten miles. Here, barely a hundred feet away, it was unbearable. How bad would it be from ten feet? The sense of danger coming from my feral side told every cell in my being to flap like mad and hide in another cave. Something in the back of my mind told me that it would only be right to help out the Flock. The sense of pity that I felt when looking at their hopeless expressions tore me in half with the side of me that wanted to get out of there.

_Stay or go? Fly away or fight? Run and hide?_ The two halves of myself fought over themselves. Stay?


	9. Chapter 8: The fight

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: The voting is closed! Read the following chapters to learn the results!**

Chapter 8: Onyx's POV

_Stay, _my mind orders me. It seems as though that was the winning half. Sighing regretfully, I allow myself to drop down, fast, and zoom to the main location of the fight. I take a number of quick breaths, and shoot upward again, launching myself into the body of the battle. As soon as I reach their vicinity, twenty Eraser robots snap to attention, wheeling around and pinpointing their target: _me._ Everything switches to battle mode as I tighten my muscles, ready to do some serious damage to their stupid, robotic beings. Fury ignites in me, fury at everything they've done to me—given me these cursed wings, experimented on me, forced me to become mute, destroyed everything I ever cared about.

Immediately, five robots charge me, electronic laser eyes glowing and red, their skin sickly furry and rough, robotic gears and switches clearly visible through the thin coating. I act quickly and think faster, jamming my elbow into one robot's neck and shoving him beneath me, forcing its noisy, metal wings to fold in on themselves. The lights in its eyes go out, the robot plummets far down. The Eraser bots seem shockingly calm about the 'death' of their comrade. In fact, they appear to have no regrets.

A split second later, the real fighting begins. I twirl through the sky, effectively taking down every robot that comes anywhere near me. My eyes constantly dart back and forth, quickly and efficiently analyzing the situation and what to do. It seemed like the robots' strategy was to send out a few sacrificial comrades, let me destroy them, and bring forth a new batch, tiring me out more each time. Simple and crude, but very, _very_, effective. _Where are they all coming from?! _I shout in my head. The Eraser bots seemed to be in constant stock, never running out.

I wheel around to smash another, but freeze for a split second, seeing six faces turned in my direction, eyes wide and alert, watching my every move while somehow still warily holding the robots off. _Great, _I think. _Now, they know I'm here. Why did I have to help?! Why did I decide to save them?! They don't have anything to do with me! _Being discovered was not part of the plan. They would probably wind up getting captured anyway, and why should I care? But that pesky sense of justice came up again, willing (or maybe _forcing_ is a better word) me to help the bird kids.

_Whitt. _The strange, hollow, whistling sound brings me back to the fight. I see a streak of silver whiz by, and curse myself mentally. _Do _NOT_ lose concentration!_ I scream to myself. I could have been dead! I snap my head back in the direction of the main fight, away from the staring eyes of the bird children. With ten robots fighting me, I was constantly turning, desperately attempting to win. Because losing, I was sure, meant going back to the School. A place where death was the most likely escape. The mention of the School brings back more toxic memories, and I shut them down before it's too late. Having a relapse is the opposite of what I need.

"Option B!" a voice calls from far below. I swivel my head towards the direction. It's a human. Well, I think. Knowing the School, it was probably half caiman. Or something. _What's 'option B'?_ I wonder. I find out when the bots transform their chunky arms into smooth, metallic guns. I curse in my head again, and get ready to fly for my life.

Taking what was meant to be a final glance at the bird kids, I see them preparing to surrender. I feel my face twist with guilt. _No. _This isn't right. I shouldn't fly free while they're taken. I turned one wing around again, winced, and allowed myself to plummet downward to the van that they would evidently be taken in.

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: Sorry again about stupid ending! But, I can't end chapters, as you already know. Review this chapter please! I need tips on how to end a chapter and such!**


	10. Chapter 9: Fang's Dismay

_Third Person POV_

Fang met eyes with Max. She gave a small nod that meant, "Think about the Flock." Fang hated it, but he knew they had no other choice. The younger kids couldn't take much more of this fight. Fang prepared to tell the kids to just give up and fly for their lives, but Nudge's shriek made him freeze as he followed her line of sight. Not fifty feet away from them was a girl, perhaps a year older than him and Max, fiercely swirling in the air and battling the Flyboys.

And she had wings.

Wings like a bat, face and other anatomy like a human. Except for her ears, which were in the shape of bats, and her unnaturally long, webbed fingers, with her wings folded in she would have looked normal. _Another escaped experiment? _he asked himself, perplexed. But Max's Voice told her that all the experiments had been retired! And that had been a while back, too! Surely, this experiment would have been dead by now. On the other hand, _he _was still alive, so that was a flawed explanation... Fang was brought back to reality when Max pulled on his sleeve sharply, alerting him to the swarm of Flyboys now turning away from his flock and towards this mysterious bat girl, who didn't acknowledge the bird-kids. Her face was blank of any expression; eyes closed for whatever reason, a hard, setline for her mouth. Fang found the last aspect odd, shouldn't someone who was sure to die be more frightened? One experiment, no matter how strong or cunning, was not able to defeat a swarm of a hundred, gun-powered Flyboys.

Or so he had thought.

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: Ooh, I love leaving you guys on cliffies! Sorry for not updating in a while, but my Internet hasn't worked for, like, two weeks XP! Anyway, hope you enjoy. Review and tell me if I need to clarify something or if I made a mistake! Thanks.**


	11. Chapter 10: Bullet for my vallentine

**Author's Note: Hello there! I haven't updated in freaking forever, please don't shoot me. My writing style has changed a lot, so this story is likely going to sound different, but I hope you people like it anyway… School and normal life have me insanely busy and I just don't have the time do update every day anymore D: But I'll try to post stuff on the weekend still. Review please? I reply to everyone who isn't anonymous (:**

Onyx POV

When I heard the gunfire I knew I was done for.

That thought had barely registered on my brain before I felt the bullet in my shoulder.

I'd felt pain before—emotional and physical—but this was quiet possibly the worst physical sensation I could imagine. There was a sort of funny warm oozing that moved down to my belly and hands, and I realized with a sharp jolt that it was my own blood staining my clothes. I opened my mouth in an inhearable shriek—

And then there was black.


	12. Chapter 11: The Awakening

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: Okay, so some people were asking how "onyx" is pronounced. It sounds like äniks or on-iks... So there ya go! Review plz?**

When I woke up, the first thing that I noticed was the smell: That windexy doctor's office smell that ran a chill up my back and gave me a rapid-fire montage of choking memories.

I tried to raise myself into a sitting position, and succeeded only in scraping my head against the metal lid to a Kanine Kamper. Then there was a horrible, burning pain in my shoulder, and it oozed red blood onto my too-short hospital attire. I didn't bother trying to come out of my crooked position after that—I knew that jostling my shoulder was the worst thing I could do.

So I lay there, one knee to my chest, the other leg awkwardly trapped beneath me, arms clutching my sore head. I opened one bleary eye, but all I could see was the slightly blood-stained floor of the crate. With a groan, I turned my head ever so slightly upward—

And recoiled at the hideous creature beside me. It at first appeared to be a boy—but upon closer examination, it had scales that pushed out of his skin, and a misshapen organ, slightly resembling a heart, that I could see bulging from underneath its flaky skin.

I felt no pity when I looked at him—only disgust. And this unnerved me. Had I really grown immune to such horrors, could it even be possible not to be shocked looking at these creatures? Perhaps after all the horrors I had witnessed—and gone through—as a child here had numbed me.

I closed my eyes again. Regardless of my immunity, I could bear the sight of the dying boy no longer.


End file.
